late in time, behold him come
by Phosphorescent
Summary: Gibbs' forceful words still ring in his head: "Don't be like me." Post-ep to "Newborn King."


_Disclaimer: If I owned NCIS, I'd hardly be writing fanfiction._

_A/N: The title of this piece is a line from "Hark! the Herald Angels Sing." A happy holiday season to all of you!_

* * *

><p>After dinner with Leyla and Amira, Tony makes his excuses and heads out.<p>

Gibbs' forceful words still ring in his head: _"Don't be like me! Learn from it."_

Huh. He hadn't been able to make things work with Wendy last time around; he'd still been trying to figure out how to balance his professional and personal lives and she'd been too impatient to wait for him to figure it out. (Really, he can't blame her. He's a slow learner when it comes to the important things in life, always has been.)

But he's… well, he's matured since then. He thinks he might be able to do a better job at balancing a serious relationship with his job. As long as it was with the right woman.

A part of him will always love Wendy, there's no doubt of that. She was the first adult relationship he'd ever had – they were going to get _married_, for Pete's sake. But when he'd sat out in front of her house in his car this afternoon, he hadn't been able to make himself go inside. Had he been afraid of seeing how much she'd changed (and through her, how much _he'd_ changed)? Had it been a case of not wanting to confront memories, bad and good like? A fear of messing things up with her yet again? A fear of the life that she represented? (And if he was afraid of that life, was it because he didn't want it or because he wanted it too much?) Or was it simply a case of his subconscious warning him that the whole thing was A Bad Idea?

Tony doesn't know.

"_Don't be like me."_

Tony has never wanted to end up just like Gibbs, much as he admires the man. He doesn't know _what_ he wants, but he does know what he doesn't want, and that's to be alone.

He finds that without thinking about it, he's driven to Ziva's apartment.

Huh.

There was a time when he wouldn't have hesitated to go into her building and pound on her door, no advance notice required. Things aren't quite that simple between them these days, though.

He picks up his cell and gives her a call.

"Tony?" Ziva's voice greets him.

"Hey, Ziva," he says. "You up to anything tonight?"

"Just reading," Ziva says slowly. "Why?"

"Mind if I come up?"

"It is Christmas," Ziva says.

"Well done," Tony says, as though speaking to a small child.

"I mean," Ziva huffs, "surely you have other plans?"

_Better plans_, her tone insinuates.

"Just got back from dinner with Gibbs and Franks' family," Tony says, shrugging.

"Very well," Ziva says. "You may join me."

"Excellent. See you in a few!" Tony says, suddenly feeling nervous.

Instead of riding the elevator, he chooses to hike up the stairs to Ziva's apartment. When he reaches her door, he's huffing slightly.

He raises his hand to knock, but the door swings open before he gets the chance.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Ziva asks, welcoming him in.

"What, do I need a reason to visit my favorite ninja?" he asks.

Ziva shakes her head slightly.

"Tony…" she says.

"OK, fine, you got me," he says. "I'm being tailed by the Russian Mob and needed a safe place to go. You got some machine guns stashed anywhere in here?

"If you do not want to tell me, that is fine, but please do not do me the disservice of lying," Ziva snorts in amusement, sitting down in an armchair.

Tony flops onto the couch beside the chair.

"How were Leyla and Amira?" Ziva asks.

"They're doing great," Tony says. "Delicious dinner, too, you'd've liked it – minted lamb with couscous and roasted vegetables. Oh, and Gibbs got Amira a pink bike."

"She is a lucky girl," Ziva says solemnly.

"Aww, did you want a pink bike when you were a little girl?" Tony asks teasingly.

"As a matter of fact, I did," Ziva says defensively. "But that is not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

"Amira is fortunate to have so many people who genuinely care about her, that is all," Ziva says, shrugging.

"Yeah," Tony agrees.

"So…" Ziva says.

"So…" Tony echoes her.

Ziva takes a breath and asks, "Did you have brunch with Wendy and her daughter?"

"Nope," Tony says would-be-casually. "Sat outside her house for a bit, but decided not to go in."

A slight frown crosses Ziva's face.

"Why would you do that?" she asks.

"What? Sit in a car outside her house or not go in?" Tony asks somewhat bitterly.

"Either. Both," Ziva replies.

"I don't know," Tony mutters, staring at his hands blankly.

"You do not?" Ziva asks gently.

"Hey, if you know, feel free to tell me, oh great psychologist," Tony says lightly. "Analyze away."

"I… think that you went to Wendy's because at one point in time she meant a great deal to you," Ziva says carefully. "And I think that it is natural to wonder what your life would have been like if the two of you had gotten married. I think that you do not yet know what you want from her, and that this too is natural. Anything more, only you can determine."

Tony shrugs. Every now and then Ziva is surprisingly perceptive, and this is one of those times she's hit the nail right on the head.

"Sounds about right," he mutters. Then, deciding that this has gotten far too introspective, he asks her, "So, have you ever seen _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_?"

"I do not believe that I have ever heard of this Grinch," Ziva says thoughtfully.

"I'll take that as a 'no'," Tony replies, "and that's just a tragedy. Now that you're an American citizen, you have to know about the Grinch. Fortunately for you, I happen to know that it's playing on TV in about –" he checks his watch "– five minutes. Ziva David, your education begins now."

"And I am going to let you commandeer my television… why?" Ziva asks, seemingly amused at his presumption.

"Because we're partners and because you want to understand American pop culture," Tony replies, giving her a charming smile.

Ziva sighs, then says, "I will watch this with you, but only because it is Christmas and because I am a – how do you say it? – ah yes, a _soft touch _for confused little boys."

Tony snorts. "Nothing about me is little, Miss Dah-veed, as you well know."

She raises an eyebrow and turns on the TV.

As the familiar music swells and the camera zooms in on a cartoon Whoville, Tony relaxes into his seat.

"_Don't be like me,"_ Gibbs had said. _"Learn from it!"_

His mind suddenly jumps to Gibb's relationship with Jenny, and he can't help but wonder…

Nah. Gibbs wouldn't suggest anything like that. Just because _Gibbs_ was too stubborn to try again with his old partner doesn't mean that Gibbs was sanctioning any rule breaking for Tony.

Still…

He glances at Ziva, already caught up in the animated film. Her brow is scrunched in concentration and her eyes are bright and almost childlike at the moment.

"_Don't be like me."_

As long as Ziva is around, he doesn't think that he's in any danger of that.


End file.
